It's just Me Abby

What I thought was going to be a mundane and ordinary week took ambiguous twists and left me still shaking my head.

Three highlights took place, two of which I will write about another time.

A few weeks ago I went walking around Stone Mountain Park with my two Arab friends. We laughed, we sang, we joked, we attempted pushups, we took selfies, and we sat by the water talking about God. It was a glorious morning with these two beautiful women. I discovered while we were together that both of them did not know how to swim. They were amazed that I could and asked if I would teach them. We began to plot and plan a time when we could scurry off to a pool and learn.

We set swim lessons for this past Friday.

The Wednesday before our swim lesson the week long rain cleared out and brought the sun and a temperature drop. Thursday welcomed the beginning of autumn with a sustained cooler temp and I began to fret. I asked my dear friend and prayer partner to pray over my time with my Arab friends the next day and for courage to get into the crisp water because honest to goodness! this South Floridian body of mine will never be accustomed to frigid temperatures.

Friday morning and I receive a text from one of the ladies saying they don’t want to do the swim lesson any more because it would be too cold. I let out a huge sigh of relief. We made plans to meet back up at Stone Mountain and go walking instead.

I arrive first before the others. They’re 12 minutes behind so I sit in my car and I pray. I pray God meets us here on our walk and in our conversations.

This time they’ve come prepared. They have a thermos filled with hot tea, three plastic cups, a pack of fresh dates, and a sleeve of crackers. I twist my van key off my chunky key ring and slip it into my pocket next to my phone. Off we go with our goodies walking the same path we took just a few weeks ago.

Our conversation is fun and carefree. They’re both enrolled in English classes to help them learn the language so we spend much of the time laughing at each other’s accents and language mishaps. We haven’t seen each other in three weeks and they both agreed that somehow I had changed in the small span of time and was glowing. They wanted to know why. “Did Greg give you kisses this morning?” they asked. I smiled. He did in fact kiss me on his way out to work, but that could not be the reason for which I was seemingly glowing. In fact I was pretty sure I was definitely NOT glowing. Nothing different has happened between now and three weeks ago. I always associate a glow with pregnancy and incase you’re thinking it too, this is not a pregnancy glow because I am definitely not pregnant.

We keep walking and talking and thirty minutes later we’ve made our way to our secluded little spot on the lake. We sit ourselves down on the stone wall separating us from the lake. The ladies start pulling out their tea and treats and I pull my phone out of my pocket.

And then kerplunk.

My van key had slipped out of my pocket and fallen 6 feet down into the lake. My heart dropped, my mouth dropped, and “crap” dropped from my lips. That, my friends, was the one and only key I had for the van.

I tend to freeze in moments like this, so I willed myself to try and think. I grabbed a nearby stick and placed it on the section of the wall where I thought the key had fallen. My sweet friends were so concerned. I leaned over the wall trying gauge the depth of the water. I began rolling up my pants legs and pushing up my long sleeves. “No, Abby!” they both cried. “You can’t go into the water! It’s too dangerous!” I reminded them I was a good swimmer and that it definitely looked shallow enough for me to stand. I started walking the length of the wall looking for a clearer spot to climb down without so much brush. They followed me. “At least take off your clothes.” they pleaded. I looked down at the water again. It would definitely go up past my hips.

Alright. Maybe I should shed the pants. I handed them to my friends and began climbing down the wall. I reach the water and lower myself in. It’s at my waist. I have to walk further out to go around the bushes and brush so the waters continue to rise up my body. My friends call out to me to throw them my shirt. I am completely humiliated. My Arab friends are covered from head to toe and I am uncovering myself from head to toe.

I throw them up my shirt.

I make my way to where I think the key could be and I go under. I can’t see a darned thing in the brown mucky water. I start feeling the ground with my hands.

Nothing. I tell my my friends we need to pray so I start praying aloud in Jesus’ name to find the keys.

I stay in the brisk water for 30 minutes searching. And praying. And thinking, maybe this is the day of their salvation. I will find the keys and Jesus will prove himself trustworthy and true.

My body temperature drops but I don’t really notice. I can’t give up. I’ll have to make the dreaded call to my husband if I do.

Minutes tick and any faith I had in miraculously finding the key dwindles. When do I concede?

I swim back to the clearing and climb up the wall. The cold air hits me as I stand dripping and defeated in front of my friends. My body begins to violently shake as I sit down on the wall, phone in hand, dialing Greg’s number.

My Egyptian friend pours me a hot cup of tea and puts it in my open hand. I can’t seem to keep the liquid from sloshing out of the cup. My Syrian friend discreetly slips off her shirt from beneath her zipped cloak and puts it on me. They both sit on either side of me a rub warmth back into my body.

So many thoughts were racing through my mind in that moment. Embarrassment of having uncovered myself in front of my conservative muslim friends. Sadness of appearing like a wild and reckless American woman. Love towards these two women tenderly caring for me in my vulnerable state.

Before the very beginning of our time together I had prayed for God to meet us there. I know he did. In a way I did not expect. We all agreed yesterday that God had a reason for the debacle that had happened and that he was still good, still loving, and still trustworthy.

God is on the move. In the up and the down. In the light and the dark. In the joy and the pain. And I want to move with him.

His mysteries are our adventures.

The ending of this story is the balm my anxious heart needed. My gracious husband never once made me feel bad. He rearranged his schedule to come wait for the locksmith while I took his car home. He waited hours, payed the locksmith, and told me to put it behind me.